


The Night of Almosts

by LinksLipsSinkShips



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: M/M, Pining, Underage Drinking, sleepover, the strawberry wine incident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 12:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17488409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinksLipsSinkShips/pseuds/LinksLipsSinkShips
Summary: Rhett reflects on all of the things he almost did -- but didn't do -- the night they drank homemade wine by the river.





	The Night of Almosts

I can still remember how bright the moon was over the river. It glanced off of the water and reflected back at us in a way that made it seem less like nighttime and more like the soft light of the afternoon, just like the many afternoons we’d spent next to the rushing water, light filtered from the leaves above. It was only the darkness that surrounded us, the quiet hoots of owls and night sounds that made it clear it was as late as it was. We didn’t have to be home until morning, not when our parents knew we were with each other. They always trusted us, curfew be damned, because far too many times we’d get in a discussion with each other, lose track of time, and eventually they got tired of fighting us on being late and gave us blanket permission. If we were keeping an eye out for each other, then they didn’t mind us going camping just the two of us.

I took a sip of the wine. Despite our best efforts, it was terrible. We weren’t exactly world-class winemakers, just teenagers with some fruit and a half-assed plan to get drunk. I resisted the urge to spit it out, instead taking a heavy swallow to get it down. It was the first of many horrible things we’d consume together, but it was far from the last. I wanted the alcohol in my system to help, to give me the courage to do things I couldn’t do sober, so I took another swig and held my hand over my mouth to keep from gagging.

It wasn’t the alcohol that convinced me to move my hand closer to Link’s, at least a little. That was all me. I let my fingertip graze his pinky in hopes he’d notice. Instead, he lifted his hand and reached for the jar, taking a large drink of his own. After that, I didn’t try again. In my mind I can picture reaching over and putting my hand on his, tangling our pinkies first and then taking his hand completely in mind. Looking back, it’s what I should have done. I should have had the courage to do it then, to hold his hand when only the moon was watching. But I didn’t. We sat a foot apart and passed the wine back and forth, taking a sip here and there between breaks in conversation and laughing about how horrible it was.

Link said he was glad we’d brought beer in case the wine failed, and I was glad, too. Opening it, the hiss of the fermentation against the cheap aluminum can, I knew it was going to be good enough. Good enough to get me drunk, good enough to give me the courage to make a move.

In my mind, I could see myself grazing my fingers against Link’s cheek, pulling him closer and kissing him as my hand teased at the freshly-shaven hair on his head. I could see myself asking him to be mine, to make good on the blood oath we’d made together. But I didn’t do any of that. I didn’t say it, didn’t try to pull him any closer to me, didn’t try to pull his legs over mine and put him in my lap, feel our hearts beating against each other louder than the sound of the river slapping against the banks.

Instead, I took another sip of the wine and washed it down with a sip of beer. When Link was most of the way through his half of the six-pack and the wine was halfway gone, he suggested we go for a swim. I hadn’t drank enough yet, not enough to dare him to skinny dip. By the time I started to suggest it, he was in the water, so I stripped down to my boxers instead, one layer too many for what I’d hoped would happen. I jumped in after him. We swam until our legs ached from the effort, sliding under the water to shove each other, or sometimes even tickle or pull each other under, trying to make the other laugh. It was the thing we were always best at.

I imagined pushing Link against the bank of the river and pressing my lips to his neck, licking at the skin there and sucking until I marked him as mine, the person I’d love and cherish forever, the person I was staking claim over, the one I’d protect and spend my time with until we ran out of it altogether… but that seemed a little too serious even if we’d already spent the bulk of our lives together up to that point, so I didn’t. My skin was hot from the alcohol and I didn’t want Link to think this was all a drunken mistake. In hindsight, that actually seems like it would have been the perfect excuse, but instead I splashed Link like a schoolgirl with a crush. I don’t know how he didn’t see through that.

When we heaved ourselves up out of the river and back onto the grass where we’d been sitting before, now lying there and looking at the tree branches and the stars that poked out between them, I thought about how much I’d love to take all of the stars and wrap them in my arms and tell Link “these are for you. They make me think of the sparkle in your eyes,” but that’s when I realized I had to be far too drunk, had way too much wine, because that was cheesy and I was never in a million years going to compare Link to a star like that. I shook my head and Link asked me what I was thinking.

I wanted to tell him “about you, about us, about the future, about how much I want to kiss you,” but instead I asked if he thought we’d still be friends in 10 years, 20 years, 50 years. I remember him putting his hand on my arm, and me wishing he’d taken my hand instead. I remember him giving it a squeeze and saying “of course, buddyroll,” and me wishing I had enough beer and homemade wine to ask if he thought we’d be more than friends then.

But no amount of homemade wine would have been enough to make me feel okay with asking then, so I didn’t. And then we were stumbling toward our sleeping bags in the darkness, ones we’d left a dozen or so yards up from the river. We walked too close together, but we’d always done that, like two halves of a whole that were wrapped with rope just barely loose enough to give us our own space, but too tight for us to actually want to  _ take  _ our own space. So as I stumbled into him and he fell against me, I envisioned taking his arm, pulling him close, guiding him to the sleeping bags with my body against him, maybe even suggesting we zip them together as the cool breeze lingered on our skin and raised my hair, goosebumps overcoming me, probably more from nerves than the air itself. But I didn’t. I took a step away from him so he had more space to walk.

If I could go back, it would be back to that night. It would be to figure out things that took us until we were almost 40 to figure it out, things we should have, could have figured out when we were teenagers. If only I’d known Link had been thinking the same things on the banks of the river, if only I’d known that he’d been hoping for the same courage I was praying for, if only I’d known we didn’t need alcohol as an excuse to move together, then maybe things would be different now.

But we’ll always have that night, the night of almosts and not-close-enoughs and too little courage in the worst alcohol in the entire world. As long as that night exists in my memory, so do the memories of the things I didn’t do, the things I wanted to and held back from. It’s tempting enough to ask Link if he wants to re-make the wine and go back to the Cape Fear and have a do-over, a chance to try again.

I think if I did, though, we’d both decide that we’re old enough to buy our own wine. Because honestly, we taste enough horrible things for the internet, and I’d rather have something sweeter to taste now that I have the courage to press my lips to his and promise him forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm 100% sure there are inaccuracies here, but I tried. It's meant to be fictional. <3
> 
> Thanks to @clemwasjustagirl for being a major cheerleader of this one.


End file.
